


One More Dance

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Dancing, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:29:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft couldn't be happier to see John when he got home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Dance

Mycroft rolled his neck as he got off the plane. Thirteen hours in the air. At least the job was done and the world would be safe for the next day or two. He hooked his umbrella over his arm and slung his carry on bag over his shoulder. The eight hour time difference was already playing havoc, mind almost ready to go to work when he should be going to bed. The airport was buzzing as it usually was; Heathrow was never really that quiet. At least for him customs was simple. Then it was off to collect the rest of his bags, stepping outside just as his car pulled up. The driver put his luggage in the trunk as he settled into his seat.

London was familiar as they drove, city lights reflecting on glass and the puddles of a late evening shower. He didn’t turn on music, simply sat in silence, checking his mobile; he was pleased to learn that nothing needed his immediate attention. Mycroft was restless, wanting to stretch and move, but he remained fairly still, only the slight jitter of one leg betraying his mood.

They arrived at his house. Most of the lights were off, but Mycroft couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across his face as he noticed the one left on. The driver got his bags and brought them into the house, making himself scarce as soon as he could. Mycroft could hear soft music as it played in the study.

Leaving the luggage as a problem for the morning, Mycroft set his umbrella in its place, smoothed his suit, and made his way down the hall. Pushing open the study door, he found a warm fire going in the hearth and John leaning over the record player. Smiling warmly, John turned to Mycroft and offered his hand. They stepped into a short dance, Mycroft finding the familiar steps easing his restlessness.

They finished and John pulled him down into a kiss. Mycroft drew him into his arms, realizing now just how much he’d missed touching John. With another smile, John touched his cheek before turning to step out of the study. Mycroft settled in his favorite chair by the fire, lanky legs stretched in front of him.

After a few minutes, John returned with a mug of tea for himself and a cup for Mycroft. The elder Holmes couldn’t help but return John’s smile as he sipped his tea. Made perfectly the way he liked it. John settled into the other chair, bare foot resting against Mycroft’s shoe clad one. 

They stayed like that for a little while. John knew better than to ask Mycroft about his trip or his job. He didn’t even know where exactly Mycroft had gone, except that he’d gotten a few phone calls at odd hours when the loneliness had crept in or Mycroft simply needed to hear a friendly voice. 

Part of what made their relationship work was that John didn’t ask or demand. He simply accepted. Just as he accepted his daft flatmate. Mycroft was not always a patient man by nature, but he’d had to learn for the sake of his career and his ambitions. John could have a temper, but he was also an expert at rolling with the punches and seeing things through. And if he got a call that Mycroft had to break a dinner engagement and, oh yes, he was also going to be gone for two, possibly three weeks, well, it was what it was.

Mycroft looked into the fire for a few more minutes. John picked up a book from the side table and started to read. When he was certain John was lost in the words, Mycroft turned his attention to the doctor. The firelight tinted his light hair with oranges and reds, but the brighter light from the lamp behind him showed the ashen blonde. His dark blue eyes were turned down, tracking the words on the page. Long eyelashes brushed his cheeks when he blinked. By this time of night, John always had a bit of stubble going, but the light hair could barely be seen. Mycroft shivered a bit as he thought of the way that stubble felt on his skin.

John looked up, catching Mycroft’s gaze. He smiled softly and reached over to take his hand. Mycroft rubbed his thumb along the knuckles. John had working man’s hands, but they were delicate too, as was befitting a surgeon and a doctor. He turned back to his book. Mycroft squeezed his hand and stood, going to where the record player had stopped. He gently took off the record and searched through the albums until he found the one he wanted. Just as gently, he put the album on, and waited for John to join him.

As the first notes played, John looked up quickly. He set the book aside and came to Mycroft’s side. The beat was fast, but they slid into it easily, moving together. This was their secret, something they only did when they were alone. There was enough room here in the study to move without bumping into things. Mycroft felt the last of his worries melt away as he let himself get lost in the moment, John taking his hand and subtly leading, moving with an ease and grace that would probably surprise most people. By the time the song ended they were both grinning and John suddenly grabbed Mycroft and dipped him, kissing him deeply before setting him on his feet.

Mycroft stared at him, chuckling softly. John went over and stopped the record, lifting the needle. He took his lover’s hand and led him upstairs, stealing another kiss before letting him go into the en suite. Stretching, Mycroft turned on the shower, stripping out of his suit and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, travelworn and tired. 

With a soft sigh, he got under the hot water and washed away the last of his travels. Mycroft heard the door open and close and knew that John had brought in some pyjamas for him. Finishing up, he toweled off, dressed and stepped back out. 

John was standing in the doorway, jacket in hand, clearly offering to go and let him sleep alone. Mycroft shook his head and took his hand, pulling him towards the bed. There had been far too many nights alone these last few weeks and he wanted the warmth of John against the cool of the night.

Nodding, John tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, stripping down to boxers and a t-shirt. He climbed into bed and Mycroft rolled over, laying his head on his chest. John wrapped his arms around him and planted one more kiss on the top of his head. Settling in, the steady sound of John’s heartbeat lulled Mycroft into a deep, comfortable sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> For foxy-voxy as part of my follower giveaway.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
